


Nights in Purgatory

by Aspidities



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Eventual Smut, F/F, Jealousy, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspidities/pseuds/Aspidities
Summary: Purgatory's got a lot of lonely nights for one Officer Haught, but they're about to get more interesting.(Canon-compliant/mildly divergent behind the scenes of season one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something to tide me over during the long off-season until we get more Earp! My headcanon is that Waves/Nicole definitely had sex before the finale, possibly even in Nedley's office, so I decided to write a fic based around that slow burn process, and there will be a little jealousy along the way. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Leave thoughts, comments and suggestions below!

Hot nights in Purgatory brought out the insomniac in Nicole Haught.

It was close to 3am. A warm breeze was playing around the edges of the night, adding to the oppressive thickness of the heatwave. It tickled her freckled skin while she sat in a lounge chair on her apartment’s balcony, sipping from a glass of whiskey on the rocks and flicking a cigarette idly between her fingers. She was supposed to have given up smoking by the time she was thirty, but time was fast approaching on that and she hadn't slowed down. The life of a cop was hell on resolutions. She worked too much to keep promises, most days, and her friends and family had learned by now that she was in the process of becoming a very lone wolf. Smoking only aided that appearance. But regardless of looks, she wasn't trying to appear aloof to anyone: especially since she was definitely looking to expand her love life’s already ample borders. Purgatory was, however, not exactly hopping in lesbian nightlife activities, or any nightlife to speak of, so she was essentially stuck here, on the balcony. Smoking.

At least that's how she was rationalizing it for now.

Nicole Haught was not a woman who normally had to wait around for dates. Back in Chicago, when she was in the academy and in college, and before that, as the hotshot basketball prodigy of her high school (go Wolverines), she had spent hot, sleepless summer nights...well, _not sleeping_. Usually with a spitfire or two she’d pick up and bring home, or with the girl she was currently dating, bodies dancing in the summer heat. Hot winds made her anxious, wanting, horny. Purgatory had plenty of them.

The door to the bar across the street banged open suddenly, breaking the stillness. Nicole sat up, cop sense heightened. She could see that a brunette woman had stepped out into the scant light of the alley, illuminated by the lean light of a bare bulb someone had installed by the door. Nicole’s immediate assessment skills had always been top marks in the academy and she was no slouch now: her trained eyes took in every detail as the woman sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms against her bare midriff.

She was young, in her early 20s, a soft, honey brunette, short, maybe even as short as 5’2 or 5’3, judging by the height of the bulb and the door. Her arms covered a tantalizing peak of exposed skin from her crop top, and the action had pressed her breasts into almost spilling out, partially obscuring the word Shorty’s written across her chest.

Nicole’s hazel eyes darkened further, internally warming herself not to be creepy, but to no effect on her dilating pupils and increased heart rate. It’d been too long. She cursed her horniness. There wasn't so much as a lesbian-owned coffee shop, much less a bar, for miles, and while she had initially resigned herself to being a spinster with her cat, (following a rough breakup that had chased her out to the wilds of the Ghost River Triangle) she now she found herself wishing for something more, something _exciting_.

She would later come to rue that fateful wish, of course, but she didn't know it yet.

The girl leaning against the wall looked both frustrated and sad at the same time. She looked as if she had just finished arguing with someone, and maybe the argument was still ongoing in her head. As if on cue, the girl raised one hand to smack the wall, while simultaneously groaning loudly, stamping her feet.

“That doesn't sound good.” Nicole called from her balcony, only fifty feet away, hoping she didn't sound creepy, but also fairly certain it’d be creepier to remain watching silently.

The girl jumped, predictably, and her eyes widened as she turned to face the apartment complex across the street, where Nicole made a halfhearted wave with her cigarette. “Sorry,” she called to the girl, staring open-mouthed, “I don't mean to interrupt your privacy, I just…ah…I’ve been there.”

The brunette smiled at her then, and it was an open, friendly smile, the kind that made Nicole’s insides tighten with longing. “It's okay, I just, I’ve never seen anyone in those apartments before, so I didn't know there could be anyone there. I’m sorry, was I super loud?” Before Nicole could answer, the brunette continued in a rush, answering herself at the same time. “Oh of course I was loud, I’m so sorry. It's probably hard enough living next to this bar. I just, oh man, I just got back in touch with my sister for the first time in a long time, and she, well, she and I have a lot of history and it's just like, agh, so hard, so hard to talk to her.”

That was all said in one, breathless instant, the babbling instantly endearing the smaller girl to Nicole. Their eyes met in a moment that seemed to drag, like it had been dipped in molasses, and Nicole felt her crooked, flirting smile take over her face. “Well, yeah, I bet it may be hard to talk, if everyone in your family always holds all their words in until they explode out like a volcano.”

The smaller girl burst into laughter. “That's me, I’m a babbler. I never know when to shut my…mouth…” She trailed off.

Nicole had stood up while the other girl was talking and had leaned against the balcony to light another cigarette, hair falling half into her face and her smooth, bare legs were thrown into rough highlight against the door of the apartment and the soft light therein. Something about this movement seemed to captivate the brunette girl, and her mouth hung open in a single quivering instant.

But that instant was enough. Nicole had seen it in her eyes. And just like that, she decided: _She wants me. I want her, too._

The instant passed in a split second, the brunette’s mouth snapped shut and she moved to the door handle, groping behind her until she found it. “Well uh, it was nice um, meeting you, but I have to go back inside and uh, deal with my problem sister-I mean sister problem, _I mean_ , my sister. I have to go back inside and talk to my sister, so I have to go. Now. Right now, okay _haveagoodnightbye_!”

And with that last final gasp of nervous energy, she exhaled and slipped backwards into the bar, The door slammed shut behind her and Nicole suppressed a laugh. Whoever this girl was, she was not good at exits.

It was all very endearing. And, to a love-starved lesbian like Officer Haught, all too desirable. She laughed softly again to herself. Oh man, maybe Purgatory isn’t as straight as I thought.

\--------------

Two days passed before Nicole was able to find time to go over to Shorty’s to introduce herself. Nedley had her doing paperwork from dawn to dusk, getting herself set up in the department, and it took forever because the station computers were ancient. No one in Purgatory seemed to acknowledge that computer science had evolved past 2000.

The patrol car was at least, in possession of a pleasantly stocked engine, one that purred enthusiastically when she started it up. The drive to Shorty’s was... well, short, but any excuse to cruise around town in the car was nice. As a new officer, she wanted to be seen and recognized in case of trouble, to start building her place in the community. And right now, she wanted to build a place in the community that included a certain brunette at Shorty’s bar.

She parked the patroller down the block: as a courtesy, when making a non-professional call to a business, small town officers often preferred to park further away so as not to draw undue attention and possibly create gossip that would affect the business owner’s reputation. Nedley was teaching her ropes of small town life, and this was one of the details she’d recently picked up. She adjusted her Stetson on her head, checking her reflection in the mirror. She grinned at herself, showing her clear, confident smile. She knew she looked good.

Entering the building, a soft, reggaeton tune was playing on the jukebox, and, she was in luck, the brunette was indeed behind the bar. Her hunch had proved correct. Nicole removed her Stetson to be courteous and leaned against the doorframe, surveying.

The girl had her back turned to the entrance, not noticing that anyone had yet come in, and she was fooling with one of the taps. Her tantalizingly-rounded little ass in the Daisy Duke style cutoffs was distracting as hell, but Nicole forced herself not to stare too hard.

Suddenly, the tap erupted, spraying foam and water onto the brunette who spluttered a curse and forced the tap shut, exasperated. “Oh perfect.” She said, examining her wet upper half.

Nicole couldn't resist.

“I didn't know Shorty’s had wet t-shirt contests.” She called, letting her voice drop into a suggestive register.

The girl turned and saw her stranger from the other night, casually leaning in all her uniformed, languid glory against the doorframe. A visible blush spread slowly over her heart-shaped face. She let out a short, embarrassed laugh and reached for a towel, patting down her wet chest in a way that unconsciously made it all the more revealing.

“You okay?” The police officer called, trying to keep the laugh from her voice and failing.

“Yeah, I…uh…just a bit jumpy,” the brunette responded, pressing the towel against her breasts. She felt the flush rising as the other woman approached, and mentally chastised herself. _What’s wrong with you? You're acting as nervous as if you were horny, all of a sudden._

“Had a crazy night.” She offered by way of explanation, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt, and was gratified in an instant, surprising way by the officer’s crooked, adventurous smile in response. She smiled back, and nervously resumed toweling herself. _Seriously what is wrong with you?_

“Sorry I wasn't here to see it.” Nicole said, leaning over the counter. Her closeness was not helping either of them, clearly, but she was never one to back away from a clearly aroused woman.

“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself,” she offered her hand, “I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught.” The other girl took it, and the connective heat was instant.

“Hi.” The brunette interjected, smiling winsomely.

“And you are…Waverly Earp.” Nicole continued, as the other girl gigglingly affirmed in response. “Quite a popular girl around here.”

_And in my more recent fantasies. Aw hell Nicole, don't be creepy._

“Yeah, you know...it's all in the ‘smile and wave’…” Waverly trailed off lamely, internally cursing herself. _Why did you go for the dumb name pun? What is up with you?_

“Yeah.” Nicole's eyes were darkening, drawing Waverly down with them, and that smile had faded into a different expression, something more stark, even naked. They both lingered with the eye contact for a moment too long, and something had been revealed in the process. Something Waverly didn't understand had happened, but she had the vaguely tingling awareness that it was important.

Nicole needed to come back to earth. She remembered her flimsy premise for being here and hurried to reinforce it. “Uh, can I get a cappuccino to go?”

“Oh!” Waverly gestured around. “I’m really sorry, but we’re not actually open yet…so...” She was surprised to find that she was, in fact, sorry.

Nicole laughed easily, throwing her hands out to acknowledge the mistake. “Oh right! Okay, my bad.”

Waverly joined in the mirth, moving to towel herself down further, but Nicole continued, her voice low and letting the friendliness wash away. “But when I see something I like…I don't want to wait.”

Waverly’s smile faded and she looked into Nicole’s eyes again, feeling heat suffuse her thighs.

“And your door was open, so…” Nicole finished, cockily.

There was no misreading the attraction that was happening, and for an experienced woman like Nicole, it was easy to interpret, even fun, but for Waverly, it was all too confusing and beginning to become scary. She decided at once to revert back to what she thought of as ‘typical’ straight girl interactive roles. That was safe and fine. She nodded, trying to resume normal breathing.

“Right. God, I’m sorry, I’m _sopping_ wet.” She gestured to her current soaked state and too late realized by Nicole’s husky chuckle that she had made somewhat of a double entendre. She blushed again. _Stop that_ , she told herself, but it did no good.

“I keep telling Shorty he needs to fix the darn…taps.” Her arm flailed frustratedly towards the bar. Something about this whole conversation was awkward, and it was throwing her off. She realized her shirt was dripping uncomfortably cold beer water down into her underwear, and she needed to take it off to dry it before her shift or she’d have to head up to her apartment to change.

“Sorry, do you mind?” She made the ‘see no evil’ gesture, asking the girl to turn around, still not sure why she felt she should. It wasn't like this was a guy. She disrobed in front of friends all the time. But this felt different. “I’m just gonna…errrr…” She imitated raising a shirt over her head and the officer chuckled politely, turning around, but there was something twinkling in those eyes that made the action feel teasing, flirtatious.

Waverly still wasn't sure why she felt so weird about this, or why she felt the need to check that Nicole wasn't looking (which she wasn't, despite the overtly sexual tone, she appeared to be a gentleman: unlike Champ who would likely be insufferable in this same situation). As she tried to suss out her feelings further in her head, she distractedly pulled the top up and it snagged on her hair, trapping her.

 _Oh my god you have got to be kidding me_ , she thought, in rising horror. She tugged, and her earrings jingled merrily at her predicament. “Oh crap. Um…officer? I’m…uh…I’m stuck.”

 _Fuck me._ Waverly hadn't felt this embarrassed since middle school when Stephanie Jones had pantsed her at lunch time in front of the popular kids. She was stuck, fully revealing her bra, to this woman, and their interaction was definitely making her feel like this situation was far more sexual than it should be, and here she was, exposed in both her physical form and in her intimate thoughts. Couldn't have been more humiliating if she’d planned it.

“Let me help you.” The laugh was kind, and the hands on her arms were gentle but firm, guiding the shirt smoothly off of her head as if the action was very familiar to the other woman. Very familiar indeed.

“Oh man,” Waverly let out a nervous giggle at herself, trying again to feel like this was a normal moment between two straight girls. “Good job you're not some guy, right? Or this would be _reeeally_ awkward…”

She dropped her sentence off abruptly as her eyes met Nicole’s. The smolder there was evident behind the forced smile.

It was, _definitely_ , awkward.

Waverly found herself clutching the shirt to her chest instead of putting it down to dry. She felt even more bared than when she had been trapped, with Nicole’s eyes exploring her, and the heat rising up in her face and chest. Nicole didn't seem to notice or care how flustered she was, and she took her sweet, lazy time drawing those eyes back up to meet Waverly’s.

The moment dragged.

Waverly had to say something or she was going to burst. “Well, I uh, I owe you one.” She wasn't sure what she was offering there, but she felt the need to say something.

“All right.” Nicole’s face wasn't friendly. Her eyes were dark and she was looking at Waverly in a way that was both serious and inviting. Waverly was very, very conscious of the lack of distance between them and just how tall the other woman was, staring down into her eyes as if she could read everything there. “Well, how ‘bout you buy me that cup of coffee? How ‘bout tonight?”

Those eyes were so calmly confident that Waverly actually felt goosebumps rising on her arms and her wet nipples stood at attention, thankfully hidden behind her arms. The heat in her thighs swelled until her pulse felt like a beating drum.

“Oh I can't.” She rushed out, unsure why she needed to deny the invitation but very sure that it was scaring her beyond belief to think of accepting it. “I mean I’d love to…ah…like to…but I have plans. Yeah! I’m a planner. Like to plan things at least two…maybe three…days in advance…” She trailed off, all too aware of those eyes on her, and that she was making little to no sense.

“I’m in a relationship!” She nearly yelped, feeling so incredibly stupid and flustered that she just wanted to hide under the bar. “With a boy! Um, a man.”

Nicole’s eyes twinkled at her obvious flustered state. Waverly was cringing so hard inside she felt she was going to break in half. _How stupid._ The woman didn't try to jump her bones, she just offered coffee. And even if it was a date, Waverly wasn't homophobic, and she never had a problem turning down dates before. This felt different. She wanted something she had no idea how to name, and had no idea what was happening to her to make her so jumpy and abrupt but it was still happening as Nicole spoke.

“A boy-man.” The officer drawled teasingly, her eyes never leaving the smaller brunette. She laughed again, knowingly, and withdrew from the bar’s inner sanctum, and away from Waverly’s quietly quivering body, moving back to her Stetson on the other side of the counter. “Yup, I’ve been there. It's the worst.”

She stage-whispered that last bit, her playful demeanor resuming with an easy confidence. “Okay then, some other time.”

The card flicked from between her fingers like magic, and landed in front of Waverly as the officer put on her Stetson ( _she’s like a sexy police-cowgirl hybrid_ ) and tossed one final shot over her shoulder: “I mean it.”

That grin as she departed was knowing, so knowing, and so full of herself in a way that wasn't swagger and bullshit. Officer Haught was the real deal. If she said she meant it, she meant it, and that was obvious.

Waverly watched her go, her body cooling, and she looked down at the card, pulling it closer to examine it.  
  
“Officer…Haught.” She said to herself, placing extra emphasis on the last word. “Of course.”

 _Yeah I don't think there's any other name that could describe that woman_. She smiled to herself. There were many emotions running wild through her at the moment, but all in all she felt better than she had in days.


	2. Chapter 2

Time passed. The hot Indian Summer fall turned into autumn, and then winter hit around October's end, as it usually did. Waverly got used to seeing Nicole around, but the effect was always there. Whatever small interaction passed between them: a smile, a lingering glance, an acknowledging wave…it was always intense. And it began to be something Waverly looked forward to, as the days went on, something to liven up the time spent at the station listening to Dolls reciting Black Badge’s extensive rules and policies. A little glimpse of that red hair and those khakis that cleaved ever-so tightly to those toned, muscular thighs….the youngest Earp girl was a goner. She was beginning to know it, too.

So when she saw that she had a voicemail from Dolls’ number, and opened it only to hear Nicole’s breathy, serious-but-somehow-still-sexy voice, she had to yank herself out of a second of reverie before she actually heard the message.

“Waverly? Listen, it’s Officer Haught, and I’m here with Dolls. Wynonna is in a situation at the surplus shop. Shorty is too…and Champ’s truck is here. I don’t want to leave this on a message, so I’m just gonna say everything’s gonna be okay, and I’ll do anything I can do protect your sister, but you should probably get here if you can. Don’t worry.”

And with that, the message ended. Immediately Waverly panicked. A situation with Wynonna could only mean revenants, and probably lots of them. She moaned out loud and frantically began searching for her keys. She wasn’t worried for Champ; in that instant, she was worried for her sister.

She didn’t consider that anything could ever happen to Shorty. Not until later.

\------

Later, in the aftermath, at Shorty’s wake, she was crying at the bar when Nicole spotted her and made a beeline.

“Waverly, I’m _so_ sorry.” She soothed, and just being near her made Waverly want to press her head into her chest and let those arms enfold her. It was an instant, rushing feeling and it was confusing and inviting all at once. She began sobbing again, overwhelmed by her emotions.

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” She choked out, and managed to finish her sentence before the tears took her again.

Nicole had a split second of decision and then reached across the bar to enfold the smaller girl’s hands in her own. “Hey…” she whispered, and it was gentle, like she was speaking to a wounded animal. The warmth of her fingers sent a calming rush through Waverly’s body, and she lifted her eyes to meet Nicole’s…

And suddenly Champ was on her like a leech, smashing artless kisses into the side of her face. “Oh it’s okay, it’s okay.” Waverly winced as he kissed her, but the damage was done, the moment over.

Nicole’s hand retracted and she inwardly rolled her eyes as Champ laid kiss after possessive kiss all over the grieving young woman. She’d seen his type before, and she knew he wasn’t fully comforting Waverly so much as making his mark known. Of course, she was trying to move in on his girl, but not at this exact second, _damn_ it. Couldn’t he see that and leave her alone to grieve?

Waverly’s hand shot back across the bar towards Nicole’s. Their fingers grazed and the red head looked down, into those brown eyes again. “Hey, I got your message.” She said, hoping that the officer could understand how much it meant to her even as Champ’s hands clamped tightly around her waist. “About Wynonna. It was really sweet. Thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Champ chimed in, simperingly, leaning his face against Waverly’s.

“Yeah, sure.” Nicole said softly, her eyes flicking between the two of their faces, so close together, and her mouth pursed up in an irritated line. “Of course.”

 _Fucking hell, I better learn to take a damn hint_. She looked away quickly left, tossing her French braided head in annoyed shrug as she did, unaware of Waverly’s longing eyes following her.

Waverly, meanwhile, felt as if Champ had ruined something. She suddenly and acutely felt as if Champ’s mere presence was stating something untrue about Waverly herself, as if him being her boyfriend meant she was probably just as dumb and hickish as he was. _Oh fuck_ , she thought to herself, somehow more hurt over the thought that Nicole might think she was like her stupid boyfriend than she was over Shorty, and that was ridiculous, surely.

Champ watched Nicole leave with baleful eyes. “I dunno. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way. Miss ‘Officer-What's-Her-Name’.” He scoffed derisively.

Sudden disgust slammed through her body. “It’s Haught. She’s…she…” _Probably thinks I’m some vapid bitch now, because I’m with you_. Waverly began to sob, overcome with emotions she couldn’t name. Champ descended on her again, continuing his unwanted advances.

“Oh baby, baby, don’t cry, it’s okay.” He shushed, oblivious to her true feelings. “I’m okay. Wynonna and I were almost human sacrificed and Shorty saved us.”

 _Oh lord, that idiot actually believes that_. “Yeah.” She recovered herself to reinforce the lie they’d given him. “Dolls says they were brainwashed by some kind of cult.” She gave him her best ‘good girlfriend’ smile. “And Wynonna says you were really brave.”

“I was.” He told her solemnly, and resumed his incessant fondling. “And one thing’s for sure, I’m not leaving your side again.”

_Oh hell._

Nicole had walked back over to what was clearly the ‘law enforcement’ side of the room, where Nedley, the sheriff department, and Dolls, waited, shifting awkwardly with their hands on their sidearms. No cop liked a funeral. She gave Dolls a small smile, one he returned with a quick jerk of his head. Nicole and Dolls had developed a somewhat easier truce, thanks to Wynonna, and it was getting easier every day. He no longer threatened her with treason, and she always made sure to knock. But he definitely didn’t have to include her as much as he did, so she was grateful he’d specifically called her in on this one, knowing the Earp family was involved.

“Hey, any update on the time capsule murder?” She asked, trying to keep her eyes anywhere but on the younger Earp girl.

“Nedley knows I won’t tell him, huh?”

She gave him the sly smile of acknowledgement.

Dolls sighed but there was friendliness under his false irritation; he knew by now how desperate she was for a good case for one, and for another, he wouldn’t’ve given her any details at all if he was truly annoyed. “Nope, I handed the case back over to Metro.”

“Any connection to the kidnapping?”

“None.”

“Poor Shorty.” She tsked. There was something else here but he wasn’t saying it. If she wasn’t so distracted by Waverly, she’d have the gusto to press more. Good cops knew when to wait the answer out and when to hunt for it. This was a waiting game.

“Yeah. We have the body, and we’re doing a full autopsy, but our best guess is the stress of the ordeal was just too much for his heart condition.” He looked straight ahead as he said it, refusing to look her in the eye.

Just then, Waverly crossed to Wynonna, her small body telegraphing the need for comfort. She leaned against the bar, as Nicole’s eyes followed her across the room.

“She said she was glad I called.” She murmured, more to herself than anyone else, but Dolls caught her glance and looked at her cautiously. He was an observant man, and he knew what he’d seen.

“I bet.” He offered, giving her eye contact for the first time that day. He didn’t know if she would be receptive to what he would be about to say, but the swell in her eyes when he confirmed her thoughts helped push him into deciding to say it. “You know, that Champ kid is a real idiot, and Waverly’s too smart to stay with him for long. You…you should keep at it.”

She shot him a smile that turned her face from hardened officer to shy kid in a second. It was endearing. He knew how she felt. _Hell, if Wynonna ever looked at him the Waverly looked at her…._

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” He clapped her on the back, grinning. “Now Officer, this is a wake for a bartender in his own bar, and it’s pretty dry for my tastes, what d’you say we line up a few drinks?”

She laughed, and let him guide her to the bar.

\----------------------------

  
A few days later, back at Shorty’s, the piano creaked out a wheezy final note to ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’ and the hidden panel popped open just like the titular mustelid. She jumped a little, finding it was a skull, but fished the note out from its teeth and read it aloud, wonderingly. Waverly had never felt as gifted or as smart as when Curtis would let her play with his puzzles, and this day was no exception.

 _You’re the only one I can trust._ The note was simple, but to a girl who’d been raised under not one, not two, but three Earp heirs (if you counted poor lost Willa), something as simple as being the only one her Earp uncle could trust….now that was powerful.

Champ had been babbling something about Buenos Aires and now he was whining disconsolately about the Harley, but Waverly wasn’t listening anymore. She had almost forgotten he was even there. Lately, even though he was making good on his promise to not leave her side (and oh what a great idea that was), he was more invisible to her than ever.

“He always believed in me.” She said, mostly to herself. “Paid for every one of my crazy online courses…dead languages, off-beat history. God it used to drive Gus nuts.” She set the skull box on the bar, shaking her head at the memory. “But he believed in me.”

She grinned proudly, looking down at the box while Champ crept obsequiously up from behind to wrap his arms around her.

“I can’t think of a better gift. The keeper of the bones.” She repeated herself, pleased...and then immediately regretted it as Champ started up.

“You know…”

_I swear to God if he says ‘Keeper of My Boner’ I’m going to-_

“You’ll always be the keeper of my boner.” He finished, unaware that he was on cue with her mental rage triggers. His body felt hot against hers and she knew he was stiffening against her ass.

“Hey, why don’t we turn that brain off for a while, huh?”

“ _No_!” She jolted away from him, disgusted. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the sight of him, slapping at his hands while he sighed his characteristic ‘women are impossible’ exaggerated sigh. God he drove her _crazy_ all of a sudden. She’d never fully examined how single-minded (and, frankly, simple-minded) he could be at times, because there wasn’t a huge pool of guys lined up to date her anyway, and well, Champ was a rodeo champion. Wasn’t that what every girl wanted? She wasn’t so sure anymore. Normally she’d swallow any of her anger at him for fear of being labeled a ‘crazy undateable Earp’ just like Wynonna, but honestly, lately that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“No.” She shuddered again, feeling that wave of disgust that she'd felt at the funeral, for even being _associated_ with him. “I don’t want my brain turned off, okay?”

Champ slouched across to the bar, rolling his eyes in that way she suddenly realized she had always hated. She continued, emboldened and enlivened by her anger. “I don’t want to be a barmaid in Buenos Aires. No. Turns out a boner and a pickup truck aren’t the whole enchilada.”

Champ snorted, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Her mind was on Nicole Haught, and that just made it easier to say her next words. “No, we’re done, Champ. Yeah. We’re done. And I have work to do.”

Delighted with herself, she picked up the skull box and pranced out, ignoring Champ’s startled splutter. She didn’t even give him a second glance.

\------------------------------------

  
Laying in her bed that night, Waverly dreamed and drifted, falling in and out of a light, uneasy sleep. She dreamed about Shorty, about her uncle Curtis, about her Daddy. She saw long-lost Willa as a child turning to her with a revenant’s red eyes, burning and demonic.

Gasping, she woke again, fumbled for her bottle of water on the nightstand and gulped down half of it, replacing it carefully as she slumped back down into the bed. Her nightmares were not unusual, by the standards of an Earp, anyway, but they were still unsettling. She turned her pillow over to the cool side and decided to think of something far more pleasant: Officer Haught.

Lately, in her guiltiest of pleasures and only late at night, she had taken to imagining what it would be like, being with the cavalier older woman. There was just something about her, the smile and the strut, and the way she looked Waverly up and down as if she already knew what she’d look like naked. As if she already pictured herself using those long fingers running up her thighs.

Champ had showed her lesbian porn before, and she knew it wasn’t as accurate as the real thing, so she had no idea what to expect. While Champ stared rapt at what appeared to be two very bored, very straight women, she’d looked at Facebook on her phone and mostly ignored it. But lately she had been wondering what the ‘real thing’ would actually be like, and late at night like this…well, her mind could wander into some fun places.

She saw the red head hovering over her, saw those sweet lips brushing against her own, teasing and soft. It was enough to drive her wild. The wetness ran like rivers down her thighs and she moaned, rocking her hips back and forth on the bed.

Masturbation was always a tricky subject for Waverly. Sometimes she felt like she knew what worked, sometimes she didn’t. Sex with Champ was fine. He was sloppy and artless at eating her out, so she often ushered him up and let him pound away instead, until her insides clenched and she felt too much. She at first figured that for an orgasm…until the first time she’d accidentally given herself one, and then she knew for sure Champ wasn’t coming close, pun intended. But, well, she hadn’t faired too well herself either. She could sometimes figure out the right formula, the right friction with her hands or thighs, but as of yet it was still mysterious to her. In all her research on other languages and times, the language of her own body was something she had never studied.

Thinking of Nicole made her want to study, and study hard.

Her fingers slipped down, seeking the warmth between her legs. _Jesus, I don’t know if I’ve ever been this wet_ , she thought, _Champ would probably die_. Thinking of Champ made the feeling go sour, though, so she brought the image of Officer Haught, leaning against the doorframe, back into her mind. She felt a familiar pulse inside and a gush as her wetness painted her thighs once more, applying new coats. _Oh god that helped. That helped way too much._

Waverly rolled her to back, and her hand sped expediently down her toned torso, finding the warmth of her pussy and exploring it. She slid around in her folds, seeking and feeling, and gasped as she ran her fingers across her clit. She pressed, and pushed and found what was too sensitive and what wasn’t, until she began to feel more confident and her fingers took up a soft circling and stroking. _Oh yeah, I can do this._

The image returned, but stronger now. Nicole was uniformed, leaning over her to put that Stetson on the nightstand, grazing her lips and teasingly flicking her tongue over them as she stared brazenly down at Waverly’s hand between her legs. “ _Well what do we have here, Miss Earp? All hot and bothered for me?”_

She drew her legs up and brought another hand down, gasping. It had never been this intense touching herself before but still she wanted more, so much more…

“ _You all right there, little girl? You need me to help you feel good?_ ” Smirking perfect lips descending possessive onto her neck, tongue lathing. Hands descending. Fingers thrusting inside. She saw it all through the red mist of her lust-addled mind.

She slipped a finger inside, then two, moaning incompletely. She thrust awkwardly into herself, her fingers flying faster on her clit as wild, rampant thoughts trampled her brain.

_Nicole would probably do this better. Oh god. She knows all about this, she’d fuck me so hard and stare at me and I’d just break and cum and cum_

Waverly’s back arched and her fingers still inside herself as her clit pulsed and swelled. She let out an incoherent scream that may have been something resembling ‘ _Fuck me, Officer Haught_ ’ and came harder than she ever had before. It felt like years before her body stopped fluttering and gushing.

“Holy shit.” She muttered to herself, clenching her thighs through her release. “Ho-oolly shit.” Her hair was matted and wet with sweat, sticking to her and the pillow below. She rolled, fluffing her hair and fanning herself until she cooled, panting like a dog in heat. _Jesus that was intense._


End file.
